Saved by a Specter
by Iorhael
Summary: Dean didn't do what Sam asked him to do, going to Lisa, living an apple-pie life. But he didn't go back to hunting, either, for he was tired of it. All he wanted was Sam, and that was what he was going to get. Set after 5.22. Brief Dean/OMC. Violence.


**Saved by a Specter**

Dean didn't do what Sam had asked him to do before his brother sealed his fate that night, defeating Lucifer from the inside. He didn't go back to Lisa and Ben, and live the apple-pie life that he thought he craved. But living without Sam meant he'd rather not live at all. He did go to Lisa, only to tell her that he would not go back to hunting again – and drove back to Lawrence.

Because that was where he was supposed to be. Home. Not his old house though. Or anywhere near it. Missouri had left town since the news of John's death reached her. Dean heard that guilt engulfed her, not having seen it coming, and she had decided to go as far as she could. She was still helping the hunters, though. If only she knew Dean would never blame her for what happened to John. If only she were still in town – at least there was someone Dean knew, someone he could talk to.

He drove through town, past the street leading toward his old house, past the cemetery where Sam was buried – alive. No. Dean was not here to find a way to bring Sam back. He'd promised Sam. It was enough that he broke the promise he'd made regarding Lisa; he would respect this one that Sam asked – even though it was only for one day. And it was a day too long. Dean knew only too well how long it truly was down there. Sam didn't deserve even a second out of it. And now, now that Dean had decided to quit hunting altogether, he could devote all his time for Sam.

He had barely settled himself into this motel room before burying himself doing research on his laptop. His key words included the four horsemen, their rings, Lucifer, his cage. He stayed inside the first two days, not sleeping and hardly eating. He fought the urge to call Bobby, telling himself he could do all this by himself. Sam was his brother, his responsibility.

Three more days passed and Dean finally gave up living on beer and whiskey. He needed food.

Getting back from the diner, his mind began to wander. His laptop was on but it wasn't the pages of the websites he'd been checking that were open on screen. Instead it was an open Word file. A new, blank page.

And Dean began to write. The first entry; him dragging Sam out of his warm bed and away from his fiancée. From the thing Sam desired most, living a normal life, college. Dean didn't need to check his journal to know the exact date; it was burned inside his head. Because deep down he had always felt guilty about it. Sam didn't ask for it, for the thing called hunting. And who said he had to go back to hunting? He was an adult. He had the right to decide his own life.

For hours Dean wrote and wrote. It was like he was talking to himself, digging deep into his conscience what he had not dared even think about before. All the what-ifs, all the different kinds of possibilities, he braved his mind to venture into them. And many of them didn't end up in Sam dying and Dean selling his soul to get him back.

Dean had never had to go to hell.

Had never had to open the first seal.

Sam had never had the need for a demon in place of Dean. He would never have had to return Lucifer to his cage.

Sam had never had to die.

It was nearly dawn when Dean jerked awake to find himself slavering over the keyboard. He clicked the computer off and went to fix himself coffee. He grabbed a book about apocalypse and sat to read in the corner of the room. After three hours of reading and making notes, he rebooted his computer and began his second entry.

-#-

The second entry was dated the night Sam was stabbed in Cold Oaks. Just like the name of the place, he was growing colder and colder as Dean was holding onto him, screaming his name in his ear. Dean could have held Sam forever in his arms if not for Bobby's frustrated yell and the bitter realization that his staying there in the mud wouldn't have brought Sam back anyway.

Dean typed furiously in his journal, silence all around him, broken only by the soft clicks of his fingers on the keyboard. Only now did he realize that he would have stayed on that night, forever if needed be. He'd still had Sam, still could touch him, feel the strong and solid muscles against his, though they were still and unyielding in Dean's arms.

There had been a world of difference when they were in Cold Oaks and the last time he lost Sam. The last touches they shared at the cemetery were of Sam beating him to within an inch of his life. And the time was imminent before Lucifer returned to the fore to reign over Sam's mind and body again. There were glances exchanged, looks filled with regrets, despair, hope and love. Dean had struggled, despite his weakened body, not to grab Sam away from the gaping earth leading to the cursed, deepest pit, and to tell Sam that it was okay, everything would be all right, that he didn't need to jump in because Lucifer was gone, there was no Lucifer, no evil in this world to ever come between them again to snatch either one of them away from the other.

Dean's sight blurred with tears. Sam couldn't tell him not to go find a way to bring him back. He knew it was unnatural and they couldn't just do the same thing over and over at the price of each other's soul. But natural or not, they could all be damned. Dean might as well have jumped into the hole – and why the hell had he not done so? He eyed the four horsemen's rings and his heart finally settled.

-#-

It was raining hard when Dean stepped out of the motel room and he jogged toward the Impala. He slid into the driver's seat and started the engine, stroking the Impala's dashboard without really being aware of doing so. The road was devoid of any car, probably because of the rain which was getting heavier by the minute.

Smoothing his hair back and gazing sideways once in a while out the window, Dean squinted when he caught sight of another car parked on the side of the road with its hood wide open. He sighed. This was not the time to be philanthropic yet he knew he just couldn't let anyone stay in trouble if he could help it, especially not in the middle of the rain like this.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Dean slowed down and rolled the window down as he pulled to a stop next to the car. A man, not much older than himself, looked up from under the hood.

"Hey," he replied from behind his wet, long bangs. "I don't know. It just suddenly – stopped."

"Need a hand?" Dean asked after a beat but he didn't wait for the answer. He pulled over in front of the car.

"You know about cars?" the man asked, wiping his hands on his pants before offering one to Dean. "I'm Logan. I owe you a drink if you manage to make this piece of a can run again."

Dean's brow shot up. "Dean," he said, shaking the hand back and tilting his head up a little. "Your car looks fine to me. Not a can at all."

"You just don't know how it really is." Logan snorted. "She's just too spoiled."

"Let me see what she needs this time. I, uh, I just happen to know a bit about machines."

"Oh, thank heavens. I don't want to get stranded here in the rain."

Dean grunted but he didn't say anything else as he began to look at the car engine. He didn't really see anything wrong with it. It only needed some oil changing but it had to be done at a garage. Logan groaned when Dean told Logan about it.

"I knew I should've at least learned _something_ so I'll know what to do in case of breakdowns. Isn't it embarrassing that a son of a mechanic knows nothing about cars?"

"Your old man is a mechanic?" A small smile curled at the corner of Dean's mouth. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about. I know someone who knows nothing about them to save his life—" Dean almost bit his tongue as he realized what he was saying. The urge to correct himself by saying _knew_ was trampled by the need to bang his own head into the car's hood. "Uh, yeah." He swallowed, averting his eyes from Logan. "You want me to call up your dad's garage or…"

"It's okay. I can do that." Logan smiled. "But I still owe you a drink."

"I didn't really do anything, you know."

"Oh yes, you did." Logan cleared his throat. "You're good with cars. I believe that my dad could use your help in the shop, so, you know, if you needed a job or something."

Dean didn't answer him. He wouldn't say he needed no money and he'd been staying at the motel without doing anything to get some cash. But with the plan he'd just made, he just didn't think of ever needing money anymore. He swept his gaze along the road in the direction of the graveyard. It was still quite a long way to get there. Dean squeezed his eyes shut. What had he been thinking? Was he really suicidal?

"Hey, you all right?" Logan sounded worried.

Dean opened his eyes and he smiled tightly. He felt so tired.

"Yeah. I am. I just – hey, thanks for the offer. I might, you know, accept it."

"All right." Logan gave him a thumbs up. "That's awesome. I know my dad will be so glad."

Dean scratched his head. "You have the address, right?"

"You a funny guy." Logan grinned. "Hey, why don't you wait up a bit? I'm calling the shop, get them to bring the tow-truck here and we can go there together."

Dean felt a bit uneasy with the idea but Logan was looking at him in a way a puppy would that Dean finally concurred.

A job might be good as he decided to keep on looking for a way to get Sam back.

-#-

No sooner after Logan called home, his dad himself came over, driving a tow truck. He jumped down and shook Dean's hand enthusiastically.

"Thanks for helping out Logan, son. He really has to start learning about cars if he wants to take over the garage some day in the future."

Logan snorted while Dean smiled, shaking Logan's father hand back.

"It's nothing, Mr…"

"Rutherford. But call me Chase."

"I'm Dean," Dean replied. Chase was slightly shorter than his son but still taller than Dean. Great. With Sam, Dean had always felt – and he stopped himself from thinking further. He tilted his head a little. "I heard from Logan that you need a mechanic?"

"Yeah, yeah. That's true. We can talk about that after we're back at the shop, okay?"

"Sure. I'll follow you," Dean said as he walked back toward the Impala. His hands shook a bit. _Sam_. Perhaps this was for the best. Maybe. Dean just couldn't think clearly right now. He'd take things one at a time, see how things went.

Dean drove in the Impala behind Chase's truck. Logan's car was towed by the truck with Logan riding shotgun beside Dean. Dean was about to protest when Logan climbed into the Impala and sat in what used to be Sam's place, but Dean managed to keep his mouth shut.

"You from around here?" Logan's voice filtered through the haze in Dean's mind after they both fell quiet after a while.

"Uh, yeah." Dean couldn't bring himself to say that he was born in Lawrence. He could see the questions coming from Logan, questions that he was not ready to answer.

"Where you staying?"

He told Logan.

"In a motel? How so? I thought you said you're from around here?"

Dean hated it when he was right. He looked sideways at Logan. "Is this a job interview?"

Logan arched his brows in surprise before laughing it off. "Just curious, dude."

"Well, curiosity kills the cat."

"I'm not a cat."

"Then what are you?"

Logan cleared his throat before he began. "Well, I teach at KU, law school, and I still live with my Dad."

Dean made a small noise. "Still living at home?" He sneered.

Logan looked pained when Dean glanced at him.

"Yeah, I know I should be out on my own, but it's a lot cheaper to live with my dad. Listen, if you stick around, I'll show you my favorite bar, where all the girls hang out. They'll like you."

"What's not to like?" Dean answered, with a self-deprecating grin. "Sounds like fun to me."

"Then it's a deal!" Logan said cheerfully.

Logan's obvious happiness jolted Dean. This was not right. He'd just realized he'd been enjoying talking to Logan when he was still grieving for Sam. And he was nowhere near to getting Sam back.

Chase was slowing down in front of them. Dean noticed they had reached downtown and on their right was a garage which was bustling with vehicles of all sorts and the business there was clearly thriving.

"Looks like a great business your Pa has here, Logan," Dean said as he got out of the Impala.

"He does. Thanks." Logan was walking down toward the truck rapidly. Chase waved at them while some of his workers began to unchain Logan's car from the truck.

"Come on, boys. Dean, this is going to be your first patient."

Dean stopped in his track. "I begin work now?"

"Sure. What are you waiting for?"

"Go." Logan shoved at him gently. "You can buy me a beer after you're finished."

Dean shrugged and followed where the mechanics brought Logan's car into the garage.

-#-

Dean had to admit he enjoyed working with Chase and the other mechanics and he was sure Chase liked him and his work, too. Logan's car was done in a little more than two days and soon he got his hands full with other cars. Dean liked discussing the jobs with the other mechanics and he enjoyed giving tips to some of the younger ones, too.

Logan kept his promise of taking Dean to a bar and he let Dean buy him a glass as some sort of celebration. Logan was right. Quite a number of good looking girls were around and not a few threw Dean more than interested glances, and some even slipped him their numbers written on napkins.

To Dean's surprise however, Logan didn't seem interested in the girls nor did he look offended that they only paid attention to Dean. His eyes were on Dean all the time, looking at him unwaveringly that it made Dean squirm a little.

"Do I have something on my nose?" Dean finally asked.

Logan simply laughed.

Dean persisted. "No, tell me."

"No, you don't have anything on your nose."

Dean snorted. "Cute."

"No, you're cute."

"Excuse me?" Dean frowned.

"Aw, come on." Logan took a swig of his beer. "Don't tell me no one's ever told you that."

Dean couldn't help but blushed. "It's just, well," he hesitated. "I'm surprised, coming from you. I'm sorry but I'm playing for the opposite team, man. What?" He asked when Logan shrugged.

"Nothing. It's just that – it doesn't make any difference to me."

"Look. Do you still want me to work at your old man's place?"

"Nobody's asking you to leave, Dean."

Dean felt shivers run down his spine. He'd never have guessed it would be like this with Logan. He blamed himself for lowering his guard, but then he only had Sam, and only Sam, in his mind.

"Don't beat yourself up, Dean. I know it must be hard to lose someone so close to you like that. You just have to…"

"What?" Dean got off his chair instantly. "Who are you? _What_ are you? What'd you know about me?"

Logan raised his hands up. "Hey, relax man. I know nothing about you."

"Bull."

"Swear to God, I don't…"

Dean gave a sharp laugh. "You're a monster for all I know."

"Monster? What are you talking about?" Now Logan was on his feet as well. "Dean, I only know you were grieving for someone when you stopped to help me that day by the road. Tell me, where were you headed at that time?"

Dean didn't answer him. He made to grab his jacket that was draped over the back of his chair, ready to bolt, when Logan snatched his arm.

"Let go of me."

"Never thought you as homophobic, dude."

"I don't have to explain myself to you. I don't know you, okay? Now you let my arm go or I'm gonna…"

"Scream like a girl? Go ahead."

Dean gritted his teeth. "You bastard."

"I'm a bastard because I like you and understand you? Come on, Dean, sit down and we'll get to know each other better, okay? Please?"

Dean was seriously considering never going back to the garage again. It was too bad, really, since the people there were nice, including Chase.

"Dean? Sit down. And don't you ever think of quitting the job."

Dean jerked back from Logan who let him go. "I'm so sorry," Logan said, looking at him pleadingly. "I just want us to be friends, okay?"

It was _not_ okay with Dean but curiosity got the better of him and he sat back down. He wondered what Logan wanted from him.

-#-

The following day Dean called Chase, telling him he was not coming to work that day. Not a good thing to do for someone who just started working but he just didn't feel like seeing Logan. He felt that Logan had crossed a line by the things that he had said the night before.

Dean opened up his laptop, and began to look up Logan on the web. He was indeed registered as a lecturer in University of Kansas and nothing seemed to be suspicious about the man. Digging deeper, Dean found out that the garage used to belong to Chase's grandfather and it was one of the oldest businesses in downtown Lawrence.

Dean suddenly felt curious about the city itself. Having been dragged out of town by his father when he was only four, Dean knew almost nothing about it. His interest was caught by a place called _Antique Mall_. He could imagine a number of items there being haunted.

Stretching up, Dean looked out of the window and realized that the day was high, and that he was actually hungry as he only had three cups of coffee for breakfast. He grabbed his jacket. Time to browse the mall. Maybe he'd be lucky enough to find something that needed to be hunted down.

Arriving at the mall, Dean was surprised by the sheer number of items displayed at one booth alone, and there were dozens of them as well as shops. From colorful costumes to sculptures. Glass statues and antique lamps. Books and the shelves on which the books were kept. Dean wondered if he could find an amulet similar to the one that he'd thrown away a couple of months ago. A Christmas present from his only brother. How could he have done that? He felt his heart clench and for a moment Dean forgot about the antiquities.

Being sidetracked by his thoughts, Dean browsed from one shop to another without really paying attention to the display anymore.

Until something caught the corner of his eye and he whirled around so fast that he felt dizzy. _Sam_?

No, it wasn't Sam. It was – a mirror. Dean stepped into the shop, looking around its dark interior when a friendly, wrinkled face greeted him with a smile.

"What might a gentleman like you be looking for in this little shop, dear?"

"I, uh," Dean stammered. "'m just looking around."

"Don't lie to an old lady like me. Something caught your attention, I can see that. Hmm, yes. You spotted something to your interest."

Dean wondered if the old lady was as unique as the items she had in her store. He glanced at the mirror. It looked old with its sculpted wooden frame and grimy glass panel. Dean wondered how he had thought he'd seen Sam on such a smudged surface. His hands were simply itching to take out his EMF meter.

"You know what, I did spot something and I wonder if it's for sale." The minute the words came out, Dean wished he could bite his tongue to stop them. An antique thing like this, it could cost you a limb if it was a real deal.

"Which one is it that you want, boy?"

"How much is that mirror?"

"Huh?" The woman heaved herself out from behind the counter and glanced toward the back of her booth. "That one? You are one clever boy, love. It's the Mirror of Desire—"

Dean almost burst out laughing. Mirror of Desire? Wasn't that the one from that kid wizard story?

"– and it's just seven bucks for you," the woman carried on as if she didn't notice Dean's amusement.

"Seven bucks?" Dean asked disbelievingly. "You mean seven grand?"

"No, don't be ridiculous. No one wants it at seven bucks. Who would even think of buying it at seven grand?"

Dean looked back at the front window. Yeah, there it was, the price, $7 for the Mirror of Desire.

"Why wouldn't anyone want it even at that price?" Dean looked at the old woman suspiciously.

The toothy grin reappeared.

"Because, my dear, if you look at the mirror, you're going to see what you really desire in your life and whatever it is in your mind that brings happiness or comfort to you."

"But if it brings such happiness, why did no one buy it?" Dean's brow knitted, puzzled.

"Oh most people are just superstitious. They're afraid that the mirror might want something in return for the happiness that it brings them."

"Does it?"

"Does it what?"

"Does the mirror want something in return?"

The woman chuckled. "Do you really believe that story? I'm flattered."

Dean regarded her silently for a long moment. She wouldn't have told the story if there wasn't one in the first place as Dean didn't believe she could make up something like that. Yet, to tell a customer that it wasn't true made him curious. Did she just do it so that Dean refrained from buying it? Did she tell that to everyone else because she wanted to keep the mirror to herself? Then why did she put such a low price on the mirror in the first place? Dean took out his wallet and extracted a ten dollar bill from it.

"Here, I'll take the mirror. Oh, and keep the change." He went to the mirror and lifted it off the floor, carrying it easily under an arm. "Thank you." Dean nodded toward the lady who stared at him open-mouthed. It'd be better to have the thing safe in his possession than to have it claim people's lives, superstitious or not.

-#-

Dean planned to see if the mirror was really magical or simply old. He wasn't intending to decorate the motel room he was staying in so he merely set the mirror on the floor against the wall. Crouching down before it, Dean was intrigued by the patterns of carvings around the frame. If nothing came up, he'd be glad to keep the mirror because it was a beauty.

After some time and nothing happened, Dean sighed and stood up, feeling oddly disappointed. He rose – and froze.

Something was moving in the mirror and as Dean continued to stare at it, the sleek surface suddenly seemed to shimmer and his reflection vanished, replaced by a replay of a scene from his life some twenty years ago, with Sam.

Dean's mouth went dry. This – this was not happening. The mirror played the scene as it was a TV screen playing a movie. He was still a teen there, dancing in the rain in front of a ramshackle house, and Sam was sitting on the front porch, laughing and shaking his head no when Dean tried to coax his brother into joining him.

He closed his eyes. The memory was fresh in his mind like it had just happened yesterday. Dean felt that if he opened his eyes, it would still be happening right in front of his eyes and Sam would still be smiling and laughing. And indeed Sam was, only when Dean reached out with his hand, all he felt under his fingertips was the smooth glass of the mirror and not Sam. Not Sam.

Still it looked more real than anything Dean could ever have imagined in the last couple of days, and for this, he'd be more than willing to give anything he had in return. He wasn't thinking like a hunter anymore. He wouldn't give a damn if it was his life at stake. The feeling he'd had previously came back, the willingness to do anything as long as he got his Sam back.

-#-

It was way past midnight and Dean realized he had to get back to his job the next morning if he didn't want to get fired. But Dean didn't feel like leaving his spot in front of the mirror as Sam would disappear once Dean wasn't within the mirror's range. He and Sam were just having breakfast at a small town which Dean couldn't even remember anymore. They were talking about a case, Sam having a glass of apple juice and Dean with his usual cheese burger and fries. Dean was trying to get Sam to eat more, pushing his basket of fries toward Sam, but Sam simply shook his head, not even looking, his eyes fixed on his laptop screen.

"It's a werewolf, Dean. The full moon is tomorrow night and it's our only chance. You still don't want to talk to the kid?"

"I'm not making him into our bait, Sam," Dean said. "Anything as long as it's not him."

"So it will be me."

Dean drank his coffee. "Not you either."

"What do you mean?"

"You're faster than me and you can easily overpower the bitch," Dean said. "So, it's gonna be your job to take her down, Sam, while _I_'ll be the bait."

Sam looked like he was about to argue but he stopped to contemplate before finally agreeing to Dean's plan. His only question was, "How do you know it's a female and not a male?"

-#-

Dean was shivering, almost freezing, when he woke up, and he felt sore all over. Groaning, he realized that he'd been dozing off on the floor. Dean sat up and stretched, and halted as he glanced at the mirror. It was the _Mystery Spot_ all over again and this time Dean was given the chance to witness how broken Sam was every time Dean died, most of all when Dean died the final time, leaving Sam alone for six months, wretched and numb and desperate, trying every possible way to bring Dean back.

The alarm clock shrilled and Dean jumped to shut it off. He rubbed his stiff neck and without a backward glance, he headed to the shower.

-#-

Dean barely talked to anyone at work, even Chase. He ate in during lunch, refusing an offer for a beer from Logan, and he took off right after work, stopping at a diner to grab a take-away. He really couldn't make himself think about Logan. The man crept him out right from the beginning. Logan might only want them to be friends but Dean still felt the need to keep some distance between them.

Sam was back in Lawrence when Dean next looked into the mirror. He was now a lawyer with Jess holding on to his arm and Dean remembered it from the time when the Djinn put him under its spell and sent him back home. He didn't understand why this turned up as one of his desires when it wasn't even real. But then, seeing Sam still studying to become a lawyer, together with Jess who was still alive, those _had_ been what he wanted for Sam, even though in the end he found out dream Sam was nowhere near the real Sam.

Dean chewed his cooling hotdog slowly, folded his legs and then unfolded them again when he felt his boots digging into his calves. His eyes never left the mirror and the scenes being played in its depth. He couldn't stop watching, couldn't leave even if he wanted to. At one time, he thought he heard the sound of a car being pulled to a halt outside his room and he started to get up to take a look but changed his mind. It was probably the people staying next door. No one came knocking at his door and Dean forgot about it.

He turned his attention back to the mirror and he saw Sam entering into what looked like a hospital room. He was clutching a Ouija board and Dean's breath hitched when he saw himself lying on the bed, unconscious, his face swollen and blue-black with bruises. That must have been after the accident with the semi on that doomed night. Dean held his breath on seeing Sam's distraught face yet again, wanting nothing more than to take hold of that face and whisper to him that everything was going to be all right. He was going to be alive and they would all be safe together.

That night Dean laid the mirror carefully down on his bed. He could look into it all night long and he was hoping that Sam wouldn't be too upset if he fell asleep in the middle of something.

-#-

"Dean, can we have a word?"

Dean lifted an eyebrow but he didn't say anything, simply following Chase into his office.

"Please sit down."

"Any problem?" Dean asked before he sat.

"You tell me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean snapped, then bit his lip. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Chase winced a little and nodded. "Exactly. You look awful, Dean, like you haven't slept in days. What's the problem?"

How many days had they known each other? What made Chase think he could just ask him such a personal question? But then Dean reminded himself that Chase was his boss. Boss had the right to question him about something that might affect his work. Dean looked down at his hands on his lap. Still, he wouldn't dream of telling Chase anything. Anything at all.

"Dean?"

"Nothing. I'm sorry. I'm tired, that's all."

"Okay," said Chase, but he still sounded doubtful. "But you're free to take a day off again if you want. Get some beer, have some fun. Take Logan if he's free."

Oh, no. Not Logan again, ever. But Dean kept silent, only nodding his consent.

Outside Chase's office, Dean almost crashed into Logan.

"Excuse me," Dean said, his chin high.

"Whoa, easy." Logan raised his hands and looked as though he were about to say something else. But Dean didn't spare him another glance.

-#-

Though the next couple of days found Dean holed up in his motel room, nailed in front of the mirror, it had nothing to do with what Chase had suggested he do. It was Sam, the most important person in his life, and this magical mirror was the only thing that allowed him to contact Sam. Dean almost never turned his eyes off the reflection of his brother, responding to what he was saying, frowning at whatever crazy ideas he had, laughing at the silliness of his stories though he'd heard them all countless times when they were still together. Sometimes Dean was lost in his thoughts and smiled at the memories. And it didn't take him by surprise at all when he thought he heard Sam talk directly to him and not to the Dean in the mirror. He would reply and in the end they were having full conversations, something Dean never thought of being out of this world.

Then someone was knocking at the door, catching his attention in spite of himself.

"I have someone at the door," Dean said, rising from the floor.

"Dean, no." In the flip side of the glass, Sam got on his feet, too.

"What? What do you mean?"

"Stay put. Don't open the door. Don't talk to anyone."

Dean huffed and waved dismissively, heading to the door. "When did you start getting so paranoid? Besides, I got it covered." Dean lifted his t-shirt and showed Sam a gun tucked into his belt at the back. "I can protect myself."

He heard Sam's slightly worried laugh. Dean turned to look at him.

"Sam, I'll be fine. Nothing's gonna happen."

"Dean…" Sam's voice lingered but Dean had already opened the door.

"Yes, what can I do…"

But no one was there. Dean's brow furrowed. He stepped out and looked around. A shadow of something swinging behind him was his only warning before everything went dark.

-#-

When he came to, he couldn't move a muscle. His hands were restrained behind his back and his ankles were secured together. He was lying on his side on his bed and the mirror had already been shifted a little so now it was facing the bed in line with his sight. Dean felt another presence in the room and rolled on his shoulder. The voice that he heard made him feel cold.

"Don't move, Dean."

He didn't understand. Sam was nowhere to be seen inside the mirror but that voice –

"Yeah, I'm here now. Outside that glass prison. With you."

No way. That just didn't make sense.

"Yes, it does," _Sam_ said, as if he could read Dean's mind. "And yes, I know exactly what you're thinking." He strode leisurely and was standing now before Dean, who caught his breath.

It was Sam, in the flesh.

"Hi, Dean," he said.

Perhaps that was why Dean couldn't see him in the mirror anymore. He had somehow managed to get away – but Sam had tied him up? Dean refused to believe that.

"You're not Sam," Dean said coldly, eyes flickering briefly toward the mirror, and to his relief, he could see Sam there again.

The impostor bending over him looked a bit taken aback and followed Dean's eyes to the mirror, a condescending smile on his face.

"Never took you as the bright one before, Dean."

"Who are you?"

The bed dipped as the man sat on the edge of it. "Someone you rejected before, Dean. Now I know how to get to you. You seem to prefer your brother. You're a pervert."

Dean tipped his head. "I rejected you?" Then it dawned on him. "Logan? You're a shifter." It wasn't a question.

Logan threw his head back, laughing hard. "Good job, good job," he nodded then, applauding, after his laughter subsided.

"But – Sam? How do you…"

Shaking his head, Logan leaned down to Dean's face. "I saw him, Dean."

"Saw? Where—"

"There in the mirror." Logan waved his hand in the direction of the thing.

"But no one is supposed to be able to see what I see in there. It's only in my mind."

"Other humans can't see. I'm not a human."

"I never invited you in."

Logan snorted. "You see that window? A slit in the curtain and I can see everything. You didn't notice me when I was here. Well, you barely noticed anything the past couple of days. And it validated my being here when dad asked me to check on you."

"He's not your dad."

"So not the point."

Dean squirmed against his bonds. "What do you want now?"

"You," Logan said simply.

"Why? Do you know who I am?"

"I do."

"But I'm going to kill you now that I know you're a shape shifter, while before I didn't have any intention of ever getting near you again…"

"You were going to find out anyway. And by that time, it was going to be too late for me to have you. To stop you from killing me."

"And what are you gonna do now? Kill me?"

Logan sighed. "Dean, I'm not gonna kill you. Told you I wanted you. We're gonna be together for the rest of our lives."

"Over my dead body." But something crossed Dean's mind. "Wait, so you killed the real Logan?"

"Well, I needed him." Logan shrugged.

"And how about Chase? Is he a shifter, too?"

"Nah. He's real."

"What did you do to him?"

"I didn't do anything. He doesn't serve any purpose to me."

"Then you'd better not have any purpose for me or Sam."

Logan shrugged. "Not Sam. It's you. Always wanted you. Can't you understand? Dean Winchester. It's gotta be more than enough to push other hunters away from my kind."

Dean tensed. "You can't expect that from having me in your clutches, right? Those hunters won't give a damn."

"Maybe," The image of Sam over Logan's face blurred. "Well then, I'd rather take advantage of what I have right now." He rose, untied the ropes, opened Dean's legs and moved up to sit between them. Dean jerked hard when those hands grazed his hips. _Sam_ licked his lip, eyes flickering, and he began to work on Dean's zip.

"Get your hands off me." Dean gritted his teeth, desperate to get away, and dug into his mind for some trick that would help him to get away from the shifter. He glanced sideways toward the mirror and immediately he turned away. It killed him to see Sam was watching the entire scene.

Logan seemed to be engrossed in his own wicked intentions but when Dean tried to clamp Logan's waist with his thighs, he grabbed hold of Dean's dick and squeezed hard. Dean groaned in pain, twisting his bound hands that pressed painfully into his back.

"I've got you, Dean. You wanna try me? That was nothing compared to what I'm gonna do to you."

"You son of a bitch. Let go—"

But a hand shot out to pinch at Dean's throat and constrict his airway. Dean's eyes bulged out in panic. He had no way to swat the hand off.

"S – s…" Logan kept squeezing, getting even tighter, and stars began to dance in Dean's eyes. Memories flashed beneath the lids, his death wish some days ago. It turned out that it was going to be granted to him anyway. He was kicking but soon felt all his movements slowing as his mind began to go dark.

… when the sound of shattering glass surprised both of them.

Logan bolted out of the bed, leaving Dean coughing and gasping for air. Dean was too out of it to immediately catch on to what was really going on. He struggled to get up before Logan returned to the attack, turning to his side, and saw how Logan was cursing at the glass splinters all over the floor and slumped down to sit on the bed –

_Glass?_

Dean staggered up, wincing at the sight of blood coming from Logan's feet, and realized this was the moment he'd waited for. Carefully he treaded among the pieces of glass.

"Hey, Logan?" He just couldn't call the man _Sam_.

Logan looked up, and Dean kicked him in the face with all the power he could summon. Logan was driven backward, hitting his head on the footboard before he rolled off the bed and fell face first on the floor, unmoving.

Dean exhaled, squatted down and picked up the largest piece of the broken glass, and began to work at cutting through his rope.

-#-

It all came back again. Sam jumped to the hole, it closed down, and Dean was left alone in the world. Now it was those sharp chunks of glass from a mirror that had accompanied Dean in the past couple of days. A mirror that had allowed Dean to meet Sam again, to look at his face, to hear his voice, to talk to him. And now there was no more mirror. Once again, Sam had sacrificed himself to save Dean.

Dean took his duffel bag and went out the door toward the Impala. He would head for South Dakota this time. Perhaps Bobby could help him find a way to get Sam back. After all two heads were better than one.

Fin


End file.
